


Because The Night

by CircusBones



Series: Borrowed Things [3]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (Movies), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Darcy has only been with one dude, F/M, Music, Possessive Behavior, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircusBones/pseuds/CircusBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy is appalled that Logan doesn't appreciate the godmother of Punk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Darcy/Logan, Punk
> 
> Takes place between SYYTM and Friction :D Based on Patti Smith's classic Because The Night.

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Because The Night  
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“No,” Darcy shakes her head, turning in the humid, obscene, golden heat of a Virginia summer. They'd taken their bikes down to the beach, all the way from a respectable, temperate New York July and into the slutty, watery heat of the southern coast. Where flowers were blooming out of every vine, every run-down fence and graffiti-covered wall in Norfolk, all the way to the pretentious boardwalk gardens of Virginia Beach, beading sweat in clinging dresses turning heads and muddling minds. 

“No,” She repeats, grinning, her thigh-length, studded black dress hitching in the humid night, “You -can't- have a problem with punk!” She tells Logan, balancing in the sand in five inch heels. Logan just chuckles, leaning back on their picnic blanket, eyes on the setting sun over the ocean. Mind, the sun is actually somewhere behind them, but the colors are all over the sea. His eyes go between the horizon and the nape of her neck, where her hair is clinging and sticking, licking his lips.

“Darlin', Punk t'me was just a bunch of angry kids from the suburbs spikin' their hair, dyin' their clothes, and yellin' about England, even though they were American, or Canadian,” He grins, watching her bend over and fiddle with her iPod and the speakers she'd brought with her in their tent. And goddamnit, she damn well knew what she was doing, too, flashing her panties his way. “Safety pins through the nose and herion in the veins, s'all I saw in the 80's.”

“You mean to tell me,” Darcy scoffs, standing, adjusting her skirt, scrolling through her playlists, “That you fucking -lived- through The Stooges, Patti Smith, Social D, and NEVER actually experienced them?!” She huffs, hand on her hips, pursing those fucking perfect, full red lips his way, “Logan, if you were a lesser man, I'd dump ya.” 

“Lucky me,” He smirks, as she sways back over, taking his hand and tugging him up off the sand.

“Get in here,” She murmurs, pulling him into the tent as her music starts to play. Something rough and delicate all at once as Darcy pries off his t-shirt, tossing it away. He can feel the sand digging into places it really, really shouldn't, but aw hell, it's par for the course. Her lips are on his, dulling his senses as the music fills his ears, as she tosses off her dress and clutches at her own tits.

All right, no, he'd missed this part of the movement, no doubt. 

Her hips roll in a way they only do when she's got music playing. She grinds on him like a dancer, possessed and full, closing her eyes and taking the music into her soul and splaying her hands on his chest. When she looks at him, Logan sees the secret there. He knows that she's seeing the lover she'd imagined the first time she'd heard this song, lonely and adolescent and fumbling at her bits in the dark. That he's what she wanted back then, without knowing it.

It sparks that thing in him, feral and possessive and wild, clutching her hips and rising up to meet her, kissing her until she can't breathe. Her nails dig into his shoulders, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip just to hear him snarl in her ear. She tightens around him, harder than any virgin should know how to pull off, but Logan already knows that Darcy aint like any other girl. His fucking perfect, gypsy child, innocent only in the technicalities. The music is her tell. That she's dreamed of this kind of thing, fucking a man senseless with all the passion she'd heard in a song.

All right, he gets it now.

Turning her over as it all melds together, he pushes into her in that hot, cramped little tent like a man taken over, taken in by her skin, her curves, the way she can be so turned on by just notes, lyrics, and him. She draws blood from his lips and he doesn't even give a shit, bending to work one of her tits between his teeth just as he hears her breath shortening, gasping, nails digging into his lower back as her's arches and curves in his hands.

“Logan!” She gasps in his ears, both breathless girl and lustful woman at once, and he's done, groaning, finishing and filling her.

So yeah, maybe he could see himself being a fan....  
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End file.
